


to start infinity again

by throughfire



Series: Buck and Eddie [4]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughfire/pseuds/throughfire
Summary: In the end it meant that he had to see Buck run into yet another collapsing building this evening; that he had to be stopped by Cap’s firm hand around his bicep for the hundredth time when he tripped over his own feet and heart in a sloppy attempt to run after his best friend.Or: Buck is an impulsive idiot and Eddie is in love with him.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: Buck and Eddie [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630543
Comments: 47
Kudos: 549





	to start infinity again

They only had a couple of hours left of their shift when they got called out. Eddie could see the exhaustion line Buck’s shoulders, but he knew, sitting opposite him in the truck, that Buck wasn’t feeling it. There was the usual, restless energy infused in Buck’s posture, in the way his foot kept tapping against the floor and made him visibly vibrate along with the moving vehicle as they headed towards the scene.

It was _Eddie_ who felt slow. Off-kilter, with thoughts that treaded poorly through molasses and only seemed capable of focusing on one thing at a time. In the truck, it was easy. He kept tracking Buck’s badly contained, energetic movements and let his heart do its own thing in his chest in response to what he saw. Rubbed his hands together in his lap, pressed his heels into the floor of the truck and tried to prepare his body for what was to come, to sink into the familiar, tandem-like choreography he’d perfected with Buck over the past year.

When they got out of the truck it was still easy. He’s done the job so many times with those same people, now, and he knows his own strengths – knows where he’s needed and what he can bring to the team. In the end – and despite the slow feeling within him – he wasn’t slow in his movements nor in his decision-making. He never messed up. He _knows_ that.

But he also knows that he’ll never be quick enough to match Buck; as hasty to reach decisions and act on them because where Buck is impulsive, Eddie is frustratingly pensive. However synchronized he thinks that he and Buck have become over time, both at work and in general, he knows that he still can’t read Buck well enough in certain situations; that he can’t make himself match the chaotic impulses that Buck has and – if not stop them – go along with them because he’s always one step behind.

He _knows_ , but he hates it. Feels useless because of it, because in the end it meant that he had to see Buck run into yet another collapsing building this evening; that he had to be stopped by Cap’s firm hand around his bicep for the hundredth time when he tripped over his own feet and heart in a sloppy attempt to run after his best friend; that he had to hear his own, raw voice yell out desperation to a smoke cloud and beg it not to swallow Buck up.

He stood during impossibly long and agonizing minutes, with his heart splintering in his chest, and could do nothing but hope desperately that Buck would come back out to him again, unharmed. He can’t remember breathing, can’t remember thinking, can’t remember standing on the ground, keeping himself upright, but he _was there_ , and the world kept moving around him, and Buck emerged from the flames and the smoke like a blessing stumbling out of something impossible; a young teenager over his shoulder and wounds littered all over his face like bitemarks from a house that he had refused to be devoured by.

Eddie allowed himself to breathe, and then everything got frantic again. He kept moving, kept going through the motions of work and care and routine all while white noise and confusion filled his ears and blurred the world around him. His mind felt oddly empty, as though failing to make sense of the evening.

In the truck on the way back to the firehouse he felt out of place, out of touch. Bereft, even though he was sat opposite Buck and could look at him for the entire journey. Hen was sat next to Buck, checking him over and caring to the wounds on his face, and Eddie found himself unable to think about it, about the situation. His heart was too loud in his ears, in his hollow bones, in-between muscles and organs where it filled him to the brim. All of him spelling out Buck’s name as though it was branded on his skin by his own heart, carved in there for simplicity: this is all you need to know, the only word you need to say.

His heart still hasn’t settled within him, now. He still feels like he’s moving too slowly inside his own mind, failing to sort himself out as he’s toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the side.

The station is still; quiet in the aftermath of their callout. He allows himself to move quietly within it, because he’s not in a rush to go home to his empty house now that he has gotten to talk with Christopher on the phone – said goodnight and anchored himself a little in the knowledge that his son is doing okay with abuela.

He pushes himself up from the bench, lies his phone on the vacated spot so that he can grab it when he heads out later, and moves sock-clad feet over the floor until he reaches the door to the bunk room. He nudges it open gently, allows himself and some light into the room and squints inside, trying to distinguish Buck’s features on the only occupied bed.

He saw Buck slip in here earlier, when he was still talking to Chris on the phone. The other man looked entirely consumed by the same exhaustion that he had been ignoring earlier in the evening and it was obvious that he was opting to sleep here instead of pushing himself through the effort of going home to his own bed.

Eddie doesn’t want to disturb him, doesn’t want to keep him from his much-needed rest, but he’s hopeful anyway. Wants a minute, a second, a mere moment of connection before the night consumes him as well. Needs to give his heart some kind of clarity so that maybe the rest of him doesn’t feel so muddled and off-kilter anymore.

Buck is already asleep, though. He looks so peaceful, even despite the cuts and blossoming bruises over his cheekbone and jaw. Eddie sinks to one knee beside Buck’s bed and simply looks at Buck for a while – feeds his heart with this moment because it is in desperate need of substance. It needs all the assurance it can possibly get that Buck is okay – that smoke and flames and the burning beams of that damn building didn’t take Buck away from it, from Eddie.

Buck’s eyelashes are long and his mouth is full, his skin pale even in the darkness of the room. He’s beautiful and asleep and _alive_ , and the relief finally untangles itself from a knot in Eddie’s chest – seeps out into every vein in his body and warms him up, makes him slowly settle back into his own skin again.

He allows himself to lean in and press a kiss to Buck’s temple before he goes; affection hidden in the wasteland between his own consciousness and Buck’s sleeping state where no one can take it from him – the limitless grounds of longing where no one can blame him for wishing and wanting and being so _stupidly_ in love with this man.

He savors it for a moment, then he leans back. Is just about to push himself up from the floor when Buck breathes out heavily, catching his attention.

“Again,” Buck murmurs softly, still asleep. His fingers twitch on the pillow, next to his face, as though reaching out for something in his dream. _Someone_. The press of Eddie’s lips to Buck’s skin is undoubtedly meddling with Buck’s dream, making him believe that Eddie is someone else.

To do as Buck unconsciously asked wouldn’t be fair to him, and it might be an even crueler act against Eddie’s own heart because to carry around the memory of another kiss will be the most conflictingly painful knot of sadness and joy he’ll ever carry with him and it will tighten around that fragile organ any time Buck looks at him in the future.

To kiss Buck like this, to know what it feels like and to know that he won’t ever have it for real, is something he should protect his heart from. But his heart’s hungry, and it’s greedy, and it’s as self-destructive as the rest of him is so he does it anyway. Leans back in for another kiss; presses it between Buck’s eyebrows this time, lingering and warm and healing while it lasts, but breathtakingly painful to carry with him as soon as it’s over.

He forces himself to go after that, out of the room and through the silence into the showers. It’s empty in there, too. Everyone’s gone home or sat upstairs with food and comforting company, leaving Eddie and his heart alone to struggle through the rest of the evening.

He strips off his shirt and drops it on the floor, takes a deep breath and holds it for a long, long moment so that his heart, at least, doesn’t have to feel so alone inside his chest.

He hears the click of the door opening after a while, still stood with his breath caught in love. He’s evidently not as alone as he thought, but he’s suddenly wishing that he were – that he could just have a moment to sort himself out, find his footing within his own emotions again and figure out how to be Eddie Diaz. Firefighter, father, friend – in love as a secondary thing, an unimportant side-effect that won’t disturb anyone else.

He closes his eyes before they can take note of the intruder and have proof of the reality outside of his own mind, then he takes silent inventory of his own body. Each cell and muscle and organ that is so overwhelmed by the evening’s course that his skin hurts from trying to keep him together, keep his feelings from seeping out of him and coloring the entire room red with emotion.

He drags his hand over his face, and finally lets his breath out against the palm of his own hand, long and hard. It’s full of emotion, too.

Then he hears; “Again.”

He drops the hand in an instant. Looks up, startled, even though Buck’s voice was just above a whisper, and meets Buck’s gaze.

Buck’s eyes are so expressive, so beautiful. There’s determination in them now, battling with a hint of uncertainty and framed by that same exhaustion that lined them when he went into the bunk room a few minutes ago.

The blue of those eyes is always captivating, but right now it’s heartbreaking as well, so open and vulnerable. Buck is looking at Eddie as though he’s scared that one, slow sweep of his own eyelashes over his gaze will wipe Eddie away from his line of sight; as though he is scared that Eddie is going to turn away and leave that plea hanging in the air, splintered and suspended in harsh overhead light like forgotten dust motes.

Eddie doesn’t move, though. He just keeps looking back at Buck while straightening out his own posture and allowing Buck to come closer, to crowd his personal space. There is a faint line already kissed onto Buck’s cheek by the pillow he just abandoned, and his t-shirt sits crookedly over his broad shoulders so that his clavicle peeks out from the neckline. There’s another bruise forming there; the battle with the collapsing beams splayed all over Buck’s body but it’s _here_. Moving. Beautiful. All of Buck’s stupidly impulsive being is absolutely gorgeous and Eddie loves him _so much_.

Buck wasn’t asleep ten seconds ago, when he murmured that word. Is awake and looking right at Eddie when he says, “Again. Eddie, _please_.”

There’s nothing uncertain about it; nothing about this situation that Eddie can doubt even though it’s in his nature to doubt everything good that comes his way because he has messed so many good things up in the past and he can’t do that this time. He can’t lose Buck, can’t get this wrong, won’t ever forgive himself if he does.

But Buck is waiting so patiently for him, standing in front of Eddie and looking hopefully at him, as though Eddie is a home to get back to rather than a building to rush into on impulse. So brave, so beautifully unapologetic for his own emotions.

And Eddie will give Buck anything. Will give this man every little bit of himself because they’re all safer with Buck anyway. All of him is more right with Buck than he’s ever been before. More comfortable, more _him_.

He reaches out and cups the back of Buck’s neck; hears Buck sigh under the weight, under the pressure of Eddie’s fingers against his skin. He tilts Buck’s head forward, his face down an inch, and kisses the spot between Buck’s eyebrows again, as asked. Lets the moment linger even longer, now, when it’s for the both of them, before he parts a fraction of an inch. The tip of Buck’s nose brushes Eddie’s when Buck tilts his face back up again. Their breathing mingles, dances, and dissipates into a joint dream while the moment stretches on silently between them.

He feels Buck’s hand on his waist; curls his own fingers in the hair at the nape of Buck’s neck, and then they’re kissing. It’s his mouth against Buck’s this time; Buck’s bottom lip caught between Eddie’s and Eddie’s breath caught somewhere in his throat. His fingertips are tingling, and the floor is cold even through the fabric of his socks and all of it is so utterly unimportant when he’s got Buck in his hands, under his mouth.

Buck is breathing heavily against him, his hand a warm, solid weight against Eddie’s bare skin, and it moves deliciously slowly to the small of Eddie’s back – drags Eddie in close to Buck’s chest where more warmth is gathered, crashing against Eddie’s front.

Eddie sinks into that sleepy warmth of Buck, hooks fingers in the neckline of Buck’s t-shirt and takes everything Buck is offering him. He licks into Buck’s mouth, savors the taste of him, the slow drag of Buck’s tongue against his own and the soft moan that ripples from the back of Buck’s throat.

Dragging himself away is difficult. Hurts his skin and bones and heart, and makes him lean back in for another kiss, two, a nip of teeth against Buck’s bottom lip that makes Buck smile against him. It makes it difficult for Eddie to find his breath, to catch it in overjoyed lungs.

“Next time you decide to run into a collapsing building,” he tells Buck, pressing their foreheads together briefly, “at least let me tell you that I love you before you go.”

“You do?” Buck asks him. His smile has widened; settled into the lines of his face and landed in his eyes. It’s a surprised kind of joy, a content brand of awe that glimmers in that beautiful blue, as though he had no idea.

Eddie arches an eyebrow and uncurls his index-finger from fabric to tap at Buck’s collarbone. Says, “You’re not stupid, Buck. You must have known.”

His other hand is still left at the back of Buck’s neck, cradling him gently, and Buck leans into the touch as he takes the words in. Tilts his head and smiles a bit smaller, a bit more privately.

“I was _hoping_. I just… tried not to rush into it, _into you_ , the way I do everything else,” he explains, brushing his thumb over Eddie’s skin, over ribs and flesh and goosebumps. “I didn’t want to get it wrong and end up losing you because I love you too much. And I would’ve been okay with how things were – with you not loving me back like that – as long as I still _had_ you, but then I realized that I wasn’t dreaming back in the bunk room. That you were there, that I wasn’t making it up. And I just… I ended up rushing into you anyway.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want you to stop being an impulsive idiot, then,” Eddie grins at him, sure that there must be fondness written all over his face, in his voice, embedded in the tips of his fingers. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t dive headfirst into every situation you meet. And you can crash into _me_ anytime you want, I always want you here. All I ask is that you warn me sometimes – let me come with your dumb ass so I won’t have to stand outside with a broken heart and pray that you’ll come back to me.”

“Okay,” Buck grins, tugging Eddie impossibly closer. “But the same goes for you. You’re not always as sensible as you like to think you are and it scares the hell out of me, too.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Eddie nods, smiling reluctantly because he perhaps, maybe, possibly knows that. Is aware that his impulses aren’t always perfectly controlled, that Buck isn’t the only one running on emotion at times. He presses that smile against Buck’s a moment later, hums against Buck’s upper lip, but ducks away before Buck has the chance to deepen the kiss again, steal Eddie from reality once more.

“I need to take a shower,” he points out, applying pressure to his hand against Buck’s chest and allowing air in between their bodies even though he hates it. “And _you_ need to sleep.”

Buck smiles at him, slow and sweet and unarguably tired, saying, “I’ll wait for you.”

“You look dead on your feet, Buck,” Eddie tells him, “you’ll fall asleep standing up.”

The grin goes crooked, and Buck’s eyes glint with _something_. “Not if I join you.”

It’s a suggestion. An offer and a challenge, with want laced around every syllable, and it’s _so damn tempting._ It would be so easy for Eddie to just curl his fingers in the waistband of Buck’s sweatpants and drag him backwards into the shower, in under a hot spray of water, clothes be damned. But Eddie wants to take Buck home, to strip Buck bare and hold him close within the gentle protection of his own bedroom walls where no one will disturb them, where Buck will be allowed to sleep the day off in peace.

So he presses another swift kiss to Buck’s mouth, then one to a particularly red and feral mark over Buck’s left cheekbone, before he shakes his head and says, “Watch me. I’ll be quick, I promise. And then we’ll go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as I'll keep writing the same story over and over again (as I've done four times already) unless stopped, feel free to tell me to write something else via through-fire.tumblr.com/ask in case you happen to have a trope or situation in mind that you don't think I'll make a complete mess of. I can't promise that I'll end up writing it, but I'll be very very grateful for the inspiration.


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